Feel The Love?
by XoXoMaya-chanXoXo
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a sophisticated, talented, confident- “conceited, egotistical, ferret faced, weasel!” “What are you on about now, you daft woman!” Can’t you just feel the love? T for mild swearing and perversion. Draco/OC R
1. Chapter 1

Summary for : Draco Malfoy is a sophisticated, talented, confident- "conceited, egotistical, ferret faced, weasel!" "What are you on about **now**, you daft woman!" Can't you just feel the love? M for mild swearing and perversion. Draco/OC R&R

Disclaimer: Well, I tried stealing at least Draco from the clutches of Rowling but, sadly, I haven't achieved my goal as of yet… I'll keep you updated though!

Warning: Novice writer at work...

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**Feel the Love?**  
Chapter 1: Sharing with Malfoy

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_Crap! _Elizabeth Mayfield mentally swore, breaking into a sprint down the stairs outside her Gryffindor dorm and pelting out of the common room, her long midnight black hair flying behind her. She cursed her habit of destroying her alarm clock when it chimed annoyingly on her bedside table. Because she had thrown the old fashioned cylinder alarm clock hard against the wall, shattering it into many sharp pieces, one of which had pierced her foot as she trudged reluctantly to the bathroom, Elizabeth, or 'Lizzie' as others referred to her, was late for class. And on the first day of term too!

Knocking over a bunch of gossiping Slytherin third years, Lizzie jumped down half a flight of stairs, thanking her lucky stars that Harry Potter had managed to convince her to help him with Quidditch back in third year. Because of that deceptive childishly innocent face he would pull whenever she would reject his offers, Lizzie couldn't help herself from obeying his every wish and command. Thankfully, Harry's childish face morphed into something more mature in fifth year so he could no longer take advantage of her kind nature towards the innocent.

_And people think he's so purely naive!_ Lizzie remembered thinking as she whisked past the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry had used his 'innocent' face to get her to postpone her Potions work and sneak down to Hogsmeade with him. In the end, they had somehow ended up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Apparently, Harry had misread his enchanted Marauder's Map and accidently led her there. Coincidently, he also needed information on the Blasterskrewits lurking in the forest. So poor Elizabeth had spent most of that night learning exactly _**why**_ the forest was forbidden, gotten only two hours of sleep, and, during the Potions lesson the next day, endured Snape's self-esteem lowering bellowing because her work was incomplete while Harry aced Care of Magical Creatures.

_I'm one of the only people in the world who know how bloody manipulative he is!_

Perhaps that manipulative side of Harry was the reason that ratty old Sorting Hat had almost placed him in Slytherin.

Lizzie shook all these reminiscent thoughts out of her head and focused on getting to the dungeons as fast as her long legs could take her. Not only was she late on her first day, she was late for _**Potions**_; meaning another telling from Professor Snape. _Professor Snake more like it!_

As she knocked down another third year, Ravenclaw by the looks of it, Lizzie was found staring at a black iron door. She closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself. This door would lead her to her desired location but entering the classroom beyond it would mean a stern, not to mention embarrassing, lecturing in front of her fellow Gryffindors and, she suddenly remembered, the Slytherins!

A wave of nausea washed over Lizzie as she gripped the circular iron handle of the door in front of her. If the Slytherins were in there, that would mean _**he**_ would be there watching her humiliation.

_Oh hell no! Not this year!_ Lizzie screamed in her head dramatically, turning and readying herself to bolt away from the door when suddenly…

"How lovely of you to finally grace us with your presence, Miss Mayfield." Drawled out a monotone voice after a loud ear-piercing '_**Screech!'**_echoed across the dim candle lit hallway.

Lizzie, like a deer caught in front of headlights, closed her eyes and turned her body to face Professor Snape. She slowly opened her frosty blue eyes and looked nervously at the looming professor before her. It actually was truly frightening.

The light streaming out of the classroom, obstructed by Snape's tall figure, outlined his intimidating body, giving the already frightening professor a menacing glow. It felt like he was the wall blocking Lizzie from Heaven!  
Not only did this light outline Snape but it also illuminated his sharp features. Every wrinkle present on the aged professor's face became revoltingly obvious and the way his eyebrows were raised menacingly gave him the look of a mad serial killer. Adding the upturned nose and sadistic smirk to the equation equaled a very terrified and anxious Elizabeth Ann Mayfield.

Professor Snape side stepped, allowing Lizzie to enter. "Come in."

She obliged and meekly entered the deafeningly silent classroom. Like for the past six years, the Potions classro- dungeon remained the same: bleak and dark with the faint remnants of a torture chamber. Lizzie and her fellow students could only conclude that with all the jars on the shelves containing rotten looking limbs; the chains, nets, clubs, and maces hanging on the walls; the faded claw and nail marks embedded deep behind the blackboard, shelves, and other objects placed as though attempting to obstruct their viewing; and the faint scent of burning flesh hanging in the air that this dungeon was, and maybe still is, used for the infliction of torture.

Every time she was late for Potions, the class would remain silent; awaiting Snape's droning lecture and Lizzie's mortification. All eyes were on her as she fiddled with the end of her skirt and took her seat beside the center of her hatred: Draco Malfoy.

Lizzie cursed the alphabet: Mayfield, Elizabeth; Malfoy, Draco.  
Just what she needed; the jumped up, ferret faced, little weasel smirking and sending her snide remarks! Well this day had started off just _**smashingly!**_

And the day kept getting better and better…

"Miss Mayfield…" Snape began, striding to the front of the classroom. He pointed to the chalk drawing of a strange pear-like plant and continued in his dull English drawl. "Can you tell me the sole magical property of Belgian beet roots?"

Lizzie rubbed the nail of her thumb painfully across the tip of her middle finger; a tendency she developed at a young age to relieve herself of any stress and/or anxiety she was feeling. But alas, it was to no avail as she shook her head 'no' and gazed curiously into the black abyss that was Professor Snape's eyes.

"Well…" Professor Snape's eyes narrowed, as though eying his prey, and curled his lips into a cruel smirk. "If you had merely arrived on the stated time… You would have known that the only magical property held in a Belgian beet root is its sensitive out layer which provides many necessities when preparing what potions, Miss Mayfield?"

Lizzie clenched her jaw and bit her tongue to stop herself from lashing out. She, as well as the rest of the class, was very well aware that the magical outer layer of a Belgian beet root was a subject yet to be discussed in the previous years and whether she had arrived on time or not would not have made much difference. But Professor Snape didn't seem to mind; as though he expected Lizzie to read ahead and memorize every little bit of information like Hermione Granger who was currently waving her hand in the air in a mad frenzy.

"No, sir." Lizzie stated simply, trying to keep her composer calm and serene as opposed to nervous and uncomfortable as she was truly feeling so.  
Professor Snape genuinely loved his mental torture.

"Ah…" Professor Snape sighed mockingly before looking pointedly at Lizzie. "Then you had better open your seventh year Potions book to page nine and learn."

"Yes, professo-"

No, it was far from over.

"But," Professor Snape cut you off, tilting his head to the side in mock confusion. "You seem to have misplaced your satchel, Miss Mayfield."

Lizzie would have gasped in shock if she hadn't been clenching her jaw. Beside her seat, where she usually kept her satchel filled with her needed books, was an empty space. This empty space was so ugly and obvious; Lizzie couldn't fathom why she had been so oblivious to this. A dizzying feeling, similar to the wave of nausea, coursed through Lizzie's system, making her feel sick to her stomach. She had forgotten her satchel in her dorm.

"Now, now, Miss Mayfield." Professor Snape teased maliciously. "Being a seventh year, I thought you have been more responsible with your belongings. Especially necessary ones."

"I-I…" Lizzie stammered, feeling stupid and vulnerable. Snape truly knew how to pull his punches.  
She could see in her dorm, beside her haphazardly thrown duvet, a red satchel decorated with golden linings. The red satchel she so desperately needed right this very moment. Lizzie took a large, almost unnoticeable, gulp. "I hadn't prepared myself for… today, sir."

But Professor Snape's eagle eyes quickly took notice, widening his harsh smirk. "Than I suggest you prepare next time… Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Small, almost inaudible, groans erupted from the crowd of Gryffindors, some seated unwillingly next to their Slytherin counterparts who continued to tease them mercilessly.  
But none of them had it worse than you.

"The first day and you've already managed to lose house points." Malfoy smirked, nonchalantly placing his chin on the palm of his hand. "And here I thought I would never live to see the day Gryffindor lost by minus."

"You won't live to see tomorrow if you don't shut up, Malfoy!" Lizzie hissed, feeling humiliated and harassed; which she probably was.

"Seeing as though Miss Mayfield has irresponsibly left her books in her dorm and sending her there to retrieve them would only allow more time to be lost," Professor Snape declared loudly with no remorse, much to Lizzie's mortification. She winced, not really expecting another jibe, though as she contemplated the situation, she should have. Professor Snape sneered. "Mister Malfoy will share his books with her."

Now _**that **_most definitely got to her.

"No!" Lizzie blurted out without thinking. Bells and chimes went off in her head whilst a petrified voice screamed: _BAAAAAD IDEA!!!_

"What was that, Miss Mayfield?" Professor Snape snapped, widening his eyes threatening at Lizzie, causing her to recoil in her seat and shake her head vigorously, an odd squeaking noise producing from her throat as she did. Professor Snape smiled heartlessly. "Good."

Lizzie shuddered and sighed in relief upon seeing Snape flick his wand towards the chalkboard, erasing the picture of the cursed Belgian beet root.  
Her relief was short lived.

"Aw, is poor ickle Wizzie scared of big old Snape?" Malfoy commented in a baby voice.

"Finally!" Lizzie exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "You're acting your age!"

"No need to take your anger out on me, book buddy." Malfoy whispered back, smirking infuriatingly.

_Why does he have to remind me…!?_ Lizzie hissed in her head, leaning over only ever so slightly to catch a glimpse on the words written. But Malfoy, being the kind, gentle, loving soul he was, slid the book further away from her.

"Malfoy…" Lizzie seethed warningly.

He just looked at her with a raised eyebrow before returning his gaze back to the book, refusing to slide it closer to Lizzie.

Lizzie narrowed her blue eyes in annoyance. He was acting like a spoilt child!  
But Lizzie knew nothing she did would make him listen to her so, sliding along the long wooden seat; Lizzie leaned closer to Malfoy, squinting to see the words. But again, annoyingly so, Malfoy slid his book and this time, himself further along the seat, away from her.

Lizzie was boiling with anger and irritation now. With her eyes narrowed dangerously, her lips pressed tightly together, and her small hands clenched into fists, she was like a serpent ready to strike.  
She placed her feet firmly on the ground before zooming quickly along the bench, ready to snatch the book away from Malfoy's strong fingers and push him to the ground!

But just as Lizzie launched herself, Malfoy did the same, sliding the book with him.

This caught Lizzie by surprise as she tripped over her feet and landed, face first, into Malfoy's lap. Though she hadn't touched it, Lizzie knew her face was near his groin area. And this reality made her cheeks burn furiously.

"Now, now Miss Mayfield," Malfoy imitated Snape in a much more seductive manner, pulling on strands of Lizzie's flowing black hair. "Being a seventh year and a royal pain in the arse, I thought you wouldn't be throwing yourself at my services… So to speak…"

Lizzie's cheeks continued to burn as she shakily placed one hand on the desk and the other on the bench for support and lifted her face from Malfoy's warm lap.

"You should really sit back down normally, Mayfield." Malfoy's hot breath wisped around Lizzie's ear as he whispered this to a flustered Miss Mayfield. "Or everyone will get the wrong idea."

It was only then did Lizzie realize her position. Though her face was no longer dug into his lap, she was still facing his groin area at short arms length away. This realization caused poor Lizzie to blush an even deeper shade of red before hastily pushing herself away, knocking the back of her head against Malfoy's jaw in the process.

"Merlin! What are you trying to do to me!?"

Lizzie nursed the back of her head and sighed.

This was going to be a long lesson.

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Boring and rather pointless, no? Well this is just the beginning of the torture I shall force you readers to endure! Ha ha ha!

Anyways, leave a little review stating how useless I am at writing or how stupid this story is going to be. I dunno! Write what you feel, that's what I always say!

Ciao for now!

Useless writer wannabe,  
XoXoMaya-ChanXoXo


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I was actually suffering from writers block. I would write, erase, write, erase, write some more, and erase some more! So please excuse it if it sucks. Constructive criticism would be much appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** Draco was nonchalantly passing my bedroom window when I suddenly threw a giant net over him! He was roped and thrown into the bedroom closet! But clever Rowling and her band of proofreading ninjas stole him away! So no… He's still not mine… as of yet!

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**Feel the Love? **Chapter 2: Lizzie's Bad Day

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"First I had to endure Snape's utter mental torture!" Lizzie seethed, dragging a disorientated Hermione Granger behind her. "Then he made me share my books with that arrogant prat!"

Hermione Granger. Muggleborn Gryffindor.

Lizzie could clearly remember the day she had first met Hermione. Lizzie's family had just moved to a new neighborhood and Lizzie was quite anxious about meeting new people. She remembered sitting in the medium sized study on her Father's big black office chair behind a new shiny mahogany desk with papers laying everywhere. The door bell rang and her Mother had opened the door to a beaming Mrs. Granger and a shy six year old Hermione Granger hiding behind her Mother's leg. Lizzie had gone to take a little peek at the sight but was caught by her Mother and introduced. Lizzie and Hermione shared their first smiles and handshakes that day. And ever since then, Hermione had become Lizzie's closest friend.

The day they both received letters from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was also a very memorable day. Both their parents were shocked but warmly understanding. Not only that, they were bloody ecstatic! Lizzie remembered her Mother grinning wildly and baking Lizzie's favorite confectionary treat: chocolate chip cookies!

But, as Hogwarts had rolled on by and Hermione became involved with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, Lizzie and Hermione had noticeably drifted apart, what with her being busy saving the day or studying. Lizzie was hurt and lonely at first but had eventually moved on, although she tried her best to keep close ties with Hermione. But after coming to Hogwarts, it had never been the same between them. That was for sure.

Hermione tumbled along beside her childhood friend, trying her best to keep up with Lizzie's amazingly fast pace. Hermione honestly felt like she was jogging to their shared dorm as opposed to _'just taking a quick detour before Charms'_.

The brown haired girl sighed and continued to listen to Lizzie's meaningless ranting, knowing that if she didn't, Lizzie would see to it that Hermione lost a couple chunks of her frizzy hair.

"Then that arrogant prat made me stumble into his lap! Did I mention that!?" Lizzie suddenly snapped her head to face Hermione's, awaiting the answer.

_Yes, four times…_ "Erm… no, you hadn't…"

"Well he did!" Lizzie _'humph'_ed and took a sharp turn around the corner, almost smacking Hermione's head into the jagged stone wall of Hogwarts Castle.

Hermione knew for certain that the only person in this entire castle that hated Draco Malfoy more than Harry Potter was Elizabeth Mayfield. Lizzie was generally found in a furious rant up and down the halls. Students avoided her at all costs when she was like this. Stampedes of pupils running frantically away from her, every time she was seen with that murderous look on her face. The rumors of Colin Creevy being chucked out the window during one of these mad sessions spread throughout the school like wildfire. Ever since then, no one dared approaching her when she was in her infamous bad mood.

Lizzie is a composed, respectable, justice-seeking sort of person. But when she gets angry… Hermione daren't even think about it…

Her short temper made her an easy and lovable target for a certain blond haired-

"-conceited, self-absorbed, smarmy, slimy, dastardly, thumb-sucking, little ferret with a God-complex!"

Hermione sighed. "He may be all that entirely but- Wait did you say thumb-sucking?"

Lizzie smirked evilly, remembering the time she was carried to the hospital wing one day after almost being a victim of the _'Slytherin Heir' _in second year. In the bed next to her that same night, lay a sleeping Draco Malfoy, who apparently had accidently choked on a toffee Dumbledore had offered him, sucking his thumb peacefully.

Lizzie distinctly remembered mocking him about it for the remainder of the school year whilst he continuously sneered at her about being Muggleborn.

Hermione shook her head, grateful for finally being let go of as they approached the Fat Lady.

"Oi! Fat Lady!" Lizzie called, showing the stout lady in the portrait that she wasn't here to play games.

Unfortunately, the portrait didn't appreciate being called 'fat'. "I am not fat, young lady! I am simply-"

"Simply obese, got it!" Lizzie cut in, sending a cold glare her way. "Fanged Frisbee's!"

The Fat Lady sniffed indignantly before swinging open and revealing inside, the Gryffindor common room.

Lizzie sighed, mentally noting to apologize to the poor woman. After all, she hadn't been the one to anger Lizzie to the point of _Crucio_-ing small children and forest sprites whilst laughing maniacally.

"Wait here," She instructed Hermione, quickly dashing up the stairs to her dorm. "I'll be back!"

Lizzie sprinted up the stairs two at a time before dashing inside her room.

Four four-poster beds were spread out across the room, each made up perfectly except for hers. The walls were painted a deep scarlet with gold edgings; the Gryffindor emblem occasionally drifting peacefully across those walls. An oak door separated the pleasant bedroom and the painfully gleaming white bathroom. A part of Lizzie was let down when she saw it; she was clearly hoping for a more _magical_ bathroom instead of one similar to the loo back in her house. Windows placed strategically illuminated the room with the bright light of the sun peering through the thin clouds. If the ringing of your alarm clock didn't wake you up, then the glare of the beaming sun certainly would. Excluding Lizzie, the only other occupants of this lovely room was Parvati Patil, Romilda Vain, and Hermione Granger.

Hermione, being a prefect, naturally had a shared dorm with a certain red-headed, cutely freckled Weasely. But Hermione's timid romantic side couldn't cope with being near Ron, especially knowing he sleeps in a sleeveless tee and red stripped boxers at night. So, persuading a rather disgruntled Professor McGonagoll, Hermione managed to weasel her way back into her old dorm.

Lizzie was bloody ecstatic. One more night of Lav-Lav slumber parties and Lizzie would have chucked herself out of her window. It wasn't as though she didn't like Lavender; she just didn't like Lavender, Parvati, and Romilda gossiping all night long. With Lavender out of their dorm, Parvati and Romilda would just sulkily go to sleep. Lizzie vaguely recalled hearing the three of them make some of pact; something about not gossiping unless the other two was present.

Lizzie looked around the room in confusion. Her patriotic satchel was no where to be seen.

She fell to her knees and scanned underneath all four beds. There was nothing except for the occasional dust bunny hoping around. _I really need to get rid of those…_

Lizzie frantically tore up the dorm room in search for her precious satchel. And just as she hexed the stuffing out of Romilda's duvet, something outside caught Lizzie's eye. Something standing out on the grounds below. Something on the shores of the Black Lake. Something… _**red and gold!**_

Lizzie's eyes widen dramatically. She rushed to the closest window and wrenched it open and there, bright as day, was her satchel; being drenched by the waters of the Giant Squid's lake. Students were merely walking past it, not even registering that someone's book bag was being harassed by the icy cold water. She had no idea how long her satchel had been there but she definitely knew it was long overdue.

Lizzie darted out of the room and whisked past a startled Hermione. She pelted down the stairs and out onto the green grassy grounds. Every one outside at the time saw her running with a maddening look in her eyes scuffled away, not wanting any part of her anger to be vented on them.

Lizzie rushed past everything and, ignoring the chill of the Black Lake, grabbed her satchel and hoisted it out of the water.

She dragged the bag to the safety of the **dry** grass just as Hermione came bursting out the door and upon spotting Lizzie, ran towards her.

"My bag!" Lizzie exclaimed, pointing at the ruins of her beautiful satchel. The gorgeous red bag was stained by mounds of dirty brown mud with loose blades of grass clinging on to it. Hideous green stains donned the bottom of the satchel from being dragged and Lizzie's most favorite part of the bag, the single Gryffindor emblem that elegantly decorated the bottom right corner of the satchel was replaced by the horrendous Slytherin emblem! "My books! My quills! My work! My EMBLEM!!!!"

Hermione, sensing that Lizzie was on the verge of a breakdown, swiftly brought out her wand and tapped the bag three times whilst muttering _"Aqua Reparo!"_ and looked at Lizzie gently. "All fixed."

Lizzie sniffled, blowing her nose on a handkerchief. "R-Really?"

Lizzie could be such a drama queen sometimes… "Yes, Liz. It's all better. Now come on or we'll be late for Charms!"

"But I need to find the retard who thought they could do this to my satchel and get away with it!" Lizzie exclaimed again with dramatically renewed anger. The fact that her Gryffindor emblem was replaced by the Slytherin emblem gave her the vague idea that a certain notorious Slytherin might have done this despicable act. And right now, what she needed more than anything in the world was Malfoy's head on a spit!

"Elizabeth, please…" Hermione pleaded, using Lizzie's full name.

Lizzie knew quite well that Hermione only used her full name when she was desperate for something. And that desperate something right now was Charms. Lizzie grimaced and slumping her shoulders in defeat, dragged her feet behind Hermione as they walked.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Lunch time!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "I don't see what is so amazing about lunch time." She sniffed in annoyance. "I think it would be better if they just cancelled out lunch and went straight to Transfiguration."

Ron scowled darkly. "Hermione! Don't you dare!"

Hermione just rolled her eyes again and trudged along side him. She shot Lizzie a good-bye wave and vanished outside the History of Magic door.

"I think Hermione should keep comments like that to herself." Melanie Carlisle muttered, shaking her head.

"That's a tad rude, don't you think?" Lizzie commented, arching an eyebrow.

Melanie Carlisle, a fairly short, energetic girl with curly red hair and almond shaped green eyes, shook her head defiantly. "She has a lot of influence with the teachers, 'specially McGonagoll! What if they start considering cancelling lunch!?"

Lizzie smiled at her best friend's stupidity. They would never cancel lunch… would they?

"Hah!" Melanie gloated, seeing the debate in Lizzie's eyes.

"Oh just s*d off!" Lizzie said dismissively, flicking her wrist at Melanie before sauntering out the door.

Melanie, still slightly dazed from her nap during History of Magic, only noticed ten seconds after Lizzie's back had disappeared from view.

"Hey, wait up!"

Lizzie giggled, seeing Melanie trip and tumble her way frantically to her.

Melanie Carlisle. Pureblood Gryffindor.

Like a typical Gryffindor, Melanie was brave and courageous and found joy in other people's happiness. But she was unlike most people Lizzie had ever met. She was random and tripped over almost anything – including her feet. Ever since Lizzie had accidently befriended her back in second year after Lizzie saved Melanie from her impending doom as she somehow toppled over the stair banister, she noticed that Melanie was often dazed and tuned in and out. Sometimes she would just stare at the wall quietly and keenly like a television set – thought Melanie had no idea was a television was – and other times she would purposely read her books upside down or suck on her real non-sugar quill. Both Muggle and magical doctors alike informed Melanie's parents that she is perfectly sane; just a tad _**unique**_. But because of this _**uniqueness**_, Melanie was a loner; she had no friends. Many students would stare at her and whisper cruel words. It sickened Lizzie how heartlessly unjust people could be but she herself never approached. It made her feel like a hypocrite but something about Melanie just didn't sit right before Lizzie had accidently befriended her. Being with Melanie, actually conversing with her or shopping with her or just plain hanging out with her; it let Lizzie see the girl in a new light.

Though Lizzie still found her strange and slightly freaky at times; Melanie Carlisle was a friend. And Elizabeth Mayfield was her first friend.

"Sorry!" Lizzie called after Seamus Finnigan. That was the ninth person Melanie had bumped into blatantly on her way down to the Great Hall. Poor Seamus just wanted to say hello in that Irish accent of his when Melanie, seemingly not noticing his presence right in front of her, knocked into him headfirst. Using a quick mending spell for his broken nose, learned from Hermione, Lizzie sent a scowling Seamus to the Hospital Wing for further treatment.

"Forget about the blood and come one!" Melanie whined, somehow unharmed from her head on collision. "Filch'll clean it!"

"Fine…" Lizzie muttered begrudgingly.

"FOOD!" Melanie screeched, opening the doors of the Great Hall dramatically. And before anyone could even blink an eye or cover their ears for that matter, she had darted to the Gryffindor table and shoved her face into a giant vat of cheese and mustard porridge, gulping heartily and ignoring the glares of sheer disgust sent her way.

Lizzie sighed and plopped herself down on the seat next to Melanie, who by now was clamping her jaw hard on a chicken leg, somehow the calories of the disgustingly fattening porridge vanishing in thin air. Melanie continued to retain her slim figure, despite the puke worthy amount of food she consumed throughout each and every day. Lizzie often envied this aspect of her best friend as she selectively chose the least fatty foods displayed on the long oak table.

"Food is fuel!" Melanie always said. "You get picky about what you put in the tank- Hey, Liz, what's the rest of that quote?"[1]

Lizzie snapped her head to meet Melanie's face screwed up in confusion and concentration. She sighed. "I don't remember."

"Oh well!" Melanie exclaimed, shoving a fistful of chips in her mouth.

"Well, well, Carlisle. Stuffing your face as usual I see." A deep mocking voice Lizzie heard behind her teased. Her eye twitched in annoyance as footsteps were heard approaching; she could recognize that idiotic, snide, repulsive voice anywhere. She didn't even bother looking up as the footsteps stopped behind her. "I think the Gryffindor insignia doesn't quite suit you but a squealing pig might."

The Slytherin table situated – conveniently – next to the Gryffindor table erupted in laughter.

Draco Malfoy. Pureblood Slytherin.

A despicable person with a superiority complex – no, strike that: a God complex. His egotistically smug self never missed a chance at being annoying. It drove Lizzie insane when he drawled on and on about being wealthy or pureblooded. And his fascist hate for anything associated with Muggles was absolute murder! And being **Muggle**born, Lizzie was an obvious target for his insults and ridicule. Ever since the day she bumped into him in Diagon Alley during her first trip there, Lizzie hated the way he spoke and walked as though the entire world was inferior to him. The worst of it started when he first found out she was Muggleborn. Immediately, the torment increased and Lizzie's sanity decreased. One of the reasons she was so short tempered was because she was fed up of being pushed around by an arrogant aristoprat!

Draco Malfoy was Lizzie's number one enemy and nothing could change that.

"Food is fuel!" Melanie shouted through a mouthful of strawberry and cabbage pudding with little bits of rhubarb caught in between. "You get picky about what you put in the tank- Hey Liz, what's the rest of that quote?"[1] She looked at Lizzie questioningly as if forgetting she asked that same question about a minute ago.

"I already told you I don't remember." Lizzie snapped, irritated by Malfoy's presence. Suddenly, the word "emblem" loomed over her head. She instantly turned her head to face – more like look up to – the smirking Malfoy with his hands shoved casually in his pockets standing directly behind her. Her face darkened. "You retarded little ferret! You threw my satchel into the Black Lake!"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, unnaturally calm though he could clearly see the vein throbbing in her temple. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Lizzie stood up with a nasty snarl. "You know d*amn well what I'm talking about, you filthy weasel! You threw my satchel into the lake and changed the Gryffindor emblem to a bloody Slytherin emblem!"

Malfoy took a step back, examining Lizzie clearly. She did indeed look angry but Malfoy had no idea what she was talking about. He shook his head, smirking wildly to wind her up. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, Mayfield."

"Yes you do!" Lizzie yelled, throwing her hands up.

Malfoy glared at her. This woman often got on his nerves with her short temper and wild fits. "I was inside the whole bloody morning. And how on earth could I sneak into the Gryffindor common room let alone **your** dorm room?"

Lizzie just glared back. He had her there. She herself couldn't figure out how he got past the Fat Lady and to her satchel without being noticed but she knew – or it could just have been her prejudice – that he had definitely been the one to do it. Even if he himself didn't do it, he probably demanded that one of his cronies to. Whatever the case, Lizzie was sure Malfoy had thrown her precious satchel into the Black Lake.

"Now if you're out of excuses to talk to me, I'm off!" He said, giving Lizzie a cheeky wave and smirk before sitting down next to his band of cronies.

"Bastard…" Lizzie muttered, sitting down. She grabbed an apple and bit down hard on it; channeling all her anger into torturing the fruit before devouring it. _Just who does he think he is!?_

"Don't let him bother you, Lizzie." Melanie said, slugging down a glass of pumpkin juice before placing her hand soothingly on Lizzie's shoulder. "He's a wanker."

Lizzie snorted a badly hidden laughter; almost choking on a piece of apple. "True…!" Lizzie coughed out.

Melanie looked sympathetically at Lizzie before grabbing a handful of rhubarb and dragging a still choking/laughing Lizzie to Transfiguration. Lizzie let herself be dragged, too caught up in her euphoria to object to anything. _Wanker!_ Lizzie repeated in her head breaking into a fit of renewed laughter.

"HAHAHA!"

Lizzie, abruptly stopping her laughter, looked at Melanie strangely. She had suddenly burst out laughing, letting go of Lizzie to clutch her stomach.

"Uh… Melanie?"

"Hah!" She breathed, wiping a tear from her eyes and facing Lizzie. "Now I get what you meant about those weasels with measles!"

"Melanie, I told you that joke two years ago…" Lizzie trailed off, wondering it she could fit in a quick visit to the Hospital Wing before Transfiguration.

"I know!" She breathed out again, laughing insanely.

Sometimes Lizzie really wondered how on earth she befriended Melanie Carlisle. Other times, she wondered if Melanie was sane. Most of the time, she wondered both.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Twelve inches on the Wizarding World's involvement during World War I for homework. Hand it in by next Wednesday." Professor Bins drawled, drifting out of the room through the chalkboard.

Lizzie sighed. History of Magic twice a day on Monday was extremely tiring. Somehow, her timetable was messed up, allowing her to have two doses of the dullest class ever in one day.

Life is cruel.

But that meant the day was finally over. Every seventh year could be heard breathing a sigh of relief. Usually teachers never give homework on the first day of classes but being in seventh year meant less time for relaxation and more time for studying. They kept claiming that this was for the best but Melanie said she knew better. She always said that the teachers would sneak to a secret dungeon, holding meetings to determine how to torture the students, what other dull subjects to create, and who the hell sent Professor Snape love letters last year – which were rumored to be quite promiscuous.

Lizzie walked past an empty classroom and stopped. Professor Snape emerged from the classroom looking rather flustered and red faced. He looked coldly at Lizzie before swiftly marching past her, his cloak billowing behind him as he power-walked.

Lizzie smirked. _Probably reading those love letters I sent him…_

She glanced at a grandfather clock located near her. 8:35

Her eyes flew wide before she darted along the corridors to the Great Hall. Apparently Dumbledore had an important announcement to be stated during dinner – 8:30 – that same evening. The mischievous glint in his eyes and knowing smile made many students – Lizzie included – anxious and nervous. He would never do anything to bring harm to anyone in this school but he could be quite unpredictable at times.

Lizzie pushed open the doors of the Great Hall and shot down on the nearest seat as nonchalantly as possible, folding her hands on the table like a good girl. She ignored the few stares that came her way and paid close attention to Dumbledore.

"Now that everyone is here, I'll continue." Dumbledore stated, beaming at Lizzie.

Lizzie flushed and shrunk in her seat. So much for her plan to stay hidden; every student had turned their heads to take a look at her. Some with confused looks; some with humorous looks; and a certain one with a smug smirk and a cheeky wink.

_Stupid blond ferret!_

"Over the past years, animosity has grown between Houses." Dumbledore boomed, outstretching his arms for emphasis. He had a startling powerful voice considering his age. "But as the Dark Lord has indeed risen again, this animosity must perish. House unity must be established and practiced in order for this castle to remain strong."

A strange feeling of foreboding formed inside of Lizzie at these words. She glanced at the Slytherin table. Surprisingly, all of them were listening intently. Even Malfoy.

This talk of House unity was clearly being taken seriously by the most unruly House of this castle.

Lizzie turned her attention back to Dumbledore; taking note of the seriousness on his face.

"Hogwarts has seen many things; has survived many battles; and has sheltered many beings. Muggle and Magical alike."

A quiet snort came from the Slytherin table.

"Listen!" Dumbledore boomed. Apparently he has as good hearing as he has speaking. "In order for Hogwarts to survive the upcoming hardships, we as wizards and witches must unite! We must unite with each other and unite with the good in the world!"

Dumbledore paused, scanning the crowd through hard eagle eyes. This matter was of the utmost seriousness and Dumbledore would make sure **everyone** realized that.

He coughed and continued, his gaze unwavering. "Before we can unite with out fellow beings, we must unite ourselves. We must look at one another and see not enemies, but friends. Friends are the strongest allies a person can have.

'Now, in order to unite Hogwarts as a whole, we teachers have decided…" Dumbledore paused dramatically, closing his eyes and pressing his lips in a thin line. After a moment in that position, a smile crept on his face, relaxing his features and the students. He lowered his hands and opened his eyes, the mischievous glint back in them. "… to integrate the four Houses."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[1] Quote from the movie Ratatouille.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Shhh! I'm currently sneaking into Rowling's house where she's keeping Draco for questioning as to what I did to him whilst he was in my closet. I've learnt that he is being kept in the Safe Room and am off to kidnap him! So, ta for now!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Feel the Love?  
**Chapter 3: Integration of Houses

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A deafening silence enveloped the Great Hall. Everyone was silent; each student taking their sweet time in letting this news sink in.

The Houses were going to be integrated.

"…_to integrate the four Houses." _Lizzie's mind was whirring wildly: integration of Houses? That was fine when it came to Gryffindor integrated with Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw but Slytherin was an entirely different story. The words Gryffindor, Slytherin, and unite were never used in a sentence, unless of course there was a "can never" somewhere in that sentence. It was universally known throughout the wizarding world that Slytherins despised Gryffindors and vice-versa. So how this was going to turn out, Lizzie had no idea.

Dumbledore scanned the mass of students, studying their expression and body language. His blue eyes glinted behind his half moon spectacles. Every student seemed to be taking this seriously and to his utter relief, the Slytherins were paying keen attention.

The House of Salazar Slytherin was a very notorious House indeed but Dumbledore would do anything it took to ensure the mistakes he made with Tom Riddle would never repeat themselves. The last thing this world needed was a successor to the current Dark Lord. And based on the evidences received from Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dumbledore had a clear idea who to keep a scrutinizing eye on…

Draco Malfoy stared blankly at the Headmaster, his eyes giving away nothing. But similar to Lizzie, his mind was spinning. This integration was some kind of joke, right? There was no way parents, especially those of Slytherins, would allow such a thing to take place. Draco knew his father would be furious when he found out; integration meant mixing with blood traitors, halfbloods, and worst of all, mudbloods.

Draco glanced at Lizzie for a fleeting moment before delving deeper into his troubled thoughts.

"So how's this gonna work?" Melanie broke the silence. For once, her mouth wasn't stuffed with food as she spoke. In fact, her food was left untouched, which was quite strange. Lizzie knew she didn't like the idea of mixing with others. "And when will this start and end?"

"A very good question, Miss Carlisle." Dumbledore commented, meeting her gaze and locking eyes. He looked directly at her throughout his answer. "Students will be scattered amongst each House. We teachers have gone through the entire list of students and placed them conscientiously in separate Houses. Some will remain in their current Houses but will still have to socialize with their new Housemates. Students replaced will abide by the rules of their new prefects and Head of House. Points received will be appointed to their new House and will represent their House during Quidditch matches and other activities."

"So basically," Hermione interrupted, pursing her lips in contemplation. "If a person was to be place in Hufflepuff, that person becomes a Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, Miss Granger." Dumbledore nodded, his gaze still lingering on Melanie. "Now as to your second query, Miss Carlisle; this integration will begin tomorrow and end when we teachers feel that Hogwarts stands as one and not four."

Professor McGonnagoll stood up from her seat and took her place next to Dumbledore. "The Heads of Houses will place a chart in their represented common rooms informing each student where their new place will be, who they will share their dorms with, and who will have the title of prefect."

"Remember," Dumbledore continued gravely. "We are only as strong as we allow ourselves to be. Do not let petty differences hinder your path. Move on in life and leave behind grudges and hatred. A time will dawn upon us when our only weapons are our will and our friends.

"Students of Hogwarts…!" Dumbledore paused, hissing a deep breath through his clenched teeth. "Enjoy your dinner."

Dumbledore nodded and strode to his throne like chair. He perched on his seat and took a slip of his pumpkin juice.

The Hall immediately erupted in talk and chatter. The clatter of cutlery and the scraping of forks against the steel plates noisily shrouded the Hall, forming an impenetrable layer of noise to block out unwanted company listening in to the hushed conversations. Everyone was immersed in either their own thoughts or the thoughts of others.

Melanie looked vacantly down at her piled food through the mess of red hair flopped haphazardly over her eyes. Her hands lay gently in her lap; her fingers shaking erratically. Her toes curled and her shoulders slumped in dismay.

Melanie was clearly troubled.

Lizzie leaned closer to her friend and slipped an arm around her waist in a side hug. She felt Melanie's body stiffen but eventually relax at her touch. Lizzie looked sympathetically at her.

Melanie was a loner. She didn't have any friends besides Lizzie. Even the Golden Trio was not very fond of spending a large amount of time with her; ten minutes was sufficient to them. Melanie was very possessive when it came to Lizzie and the thought of being separated from her only friend frightened her, Lizzie knew this. Lizzie also knew there was no way around this. She heard Dumbledore clearly: the teachers had already decided how the students would be scattered. With a slight pang of pain hitting deep in Lizzie's heart, she tightened her grip on her friend and sent her a reassuring smile. "Everything will be okay." Lizzie whispered.

"Always knew there was something more to the two of you than met my eyes." Malfoy sneered behind Lizzie, looking at the sight of them holding each other with a strange glint in his eyes.

Lizzie craned her neck to glare at him. "So you get off on these kinds of things, do you?" She hissed, loosening her hold on Melanie to glare more efficiently.

Malfoy laughed mockingly. "Hardly. I get off more on Potter than I do with you."

This time Lizzie threw her head back and barked out a humorous laugh. "So you admit you're attracted to Harry?"

Malfoy glared at her, rising from his seat and taking a menacing step forwards. But Lizzie didn't back down; she stood up and cocked her head to the side, raising a knowing eyebrow.

"Don't think you're my equal, you filthy little Mudblood!" Malfoy hissed contemptuously, spitting out the word 'Mudblood' with poisonous venom.

"I am far beyond your equal, you despicable Pureblood!" Lizzie retorted, mimicking his distaste.

"Watch your back, Mayfield!" Malfoy hissed, pushing his face close to hers. A strange glint, different to the one he held before, shone brightly in his slate grey eyes. A challenging glint; he was issuing her a warning with his eyes challenging her to continue and face the consequences.

"Liz, don't!" Melanie pleaded as she saw Lizzie's hand twitch for her wand. "You'll get in trouble and he's not worth that!"

"Control your gaping mouth, Carlisle!" Malfoy hissed, sending her a distasteful look.

Melanie just stared back blankly, blinking a few times.

Suddenly, she doubled over and burst into a fit of giggles. Her laughter obviously shocked Malfoy as he stood there, staring dumbly at Melanie's quivering form. But Lizzie on the other hand was used to Melanie's random outbursts so she just waited for the amusing explanation.

Melanie choked back her laughter and looked up at Malfoy, her eyes riddled with tears. "You…!" She breathed. "You look like a constipated piece of ham!"

_All her insults have some form of food associated with it. _Lizzie mused, shaking her head with a bright smile.

She dropped her smile and turned to glare at Malfoy, who was staring at Melanie with a mixture of hatred and confusion. Even after six years, Malfoy wasn't accustomed to Melanie's… uniqueness to the extent Lizzie was. He just continued to look at her without word, attempting to unearth some sort of hidden meaning but it was no use. Melanie's insult continued to stand the way it was spoken.

Malfoy looked like a constipated piece of ham.

Melanie stood up abruptly with a gravely serious expression donning her face. She stepped over the wooden seating and grabbed Lizzie by the elbow, dragging the black haired female to the beautifully decorated door of the Great Hall. Her grip on Lizzie's elbow was firm and painfully tight and with that grim look on her face, Lizzie deduced that Melanie was going through some sort of mental turmoil.

That or it could have been her ever changing moods.

In any case, Lizzie let herself get dragged away from a dumbstruck Malfoy. She craned her head to stick her tongue childishly at Malfoy than disappeared from sight before the blond boy could even register what she had done.

Malfoy had a temper almost as wild as Lizzie's, making her wonder if it was a good thing she didn't stay long enough for him to react.

Oh well…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So what you're saying is…" Lizzie began slowly, biting her lip in desperation to grasp Melanie's logic – if one could call it that. "You left the Great Hall and dragged me all the way up to the common room to find a goldfish, cut it open, and use it's intestines to poison Ernie Macmillan's morning pumpkin juice?"

Melanie dragged Lizzie around the Hogwarts castle for over an hour, passing the numerous doors and windows on many floors of this grand establishment before admitting that she had no idea where she was. Lizzie had sighed in irritation before offering up a few places she and Melanie could speak alone. Melanie had stared deeply at a mold forming between cracks in the wall for over half an hour without blinking prior to informing Lizzie that she wanted to rest in the Gryffindor common room.

Lizzie had led the way up to Gryffindor Tower and greeted the portrait of the Fat Lady with a small smile and a sincere apology. The Fat Lady was a softy at heart and forgave Lizzie – of course, Lizzie had promised the Fat Lady ten minutes of her time in order to assist the Fat Lady with her singing.

A fire was alive and roaring, casting an orange glow to the comfortable environment of the Gryffindor common room. Lizzie was situated on the deep scarlet sofa placed in front of welcoming flames with a soft cushion hugged tightly against her chest and Melanie plopped down beside her.  
She had really missed this place.

Her home in London was cozy and pleasant but it lacked the mystery and magic Hogwarts held within its jagged stone walls. Every day something unexpected could happen: like the flavor of toothpaste Hogwarts provided every student would change every morning. Some flavors were interesting like toast or mint leaves; some were delicious like cheese or cereal – Melanie devoured the entire tube that morning; and some were just plain disgusting like sugarless coffee or Hippogriff bogeys or even Hagrid's aftershave (what part of his anatomy he shaves remains censored for obvious reasons).

Lizzie shuddered. She subconsciously wondered what interesting flavor would grace her and her roommates tomorrow.

Melanie nodded, eying the male goldfish swimming around in a small circular fish bowl with blissful ignorance to her evil plot.

Lizzie snapped out of her stupefied daze and suddenly remembered what exactly she was conversing about. She arched an uneasy eyebrow. "And uh… why exactly do you want to poison Ernie Macmillan?" Lizzie asked cautiously, feeling rather sorry for the poor Hufflepuff.

Melanie glared at the dancing flames of the burning fire in front of her. "In fourth year, on the train ride home, he bumped into me."

"Did he apologize?" Lizzie pretty much knew the answer. In fourth year, Ernie Macmillan was her date to the Yule Ball. He kept apologizing profusely every time he did something wrong and some times when he didn't. He was a very kind boy with a sweet disposition. That, and slightly annoying.

"Yes." Melanie answered simply, with a note of hatred hidden deep within her voice.

Lizzie furrowed her eyebrows. "Then why do you want to poison him?"

"Because I'm bored." Melanie whined, throwing a velvety red cushion into the fire and watching it burn with a loathful look in her eyes.

The black haired girl just stared at Melanie incredulously. As well as being unique, Melanie was quite… precarious on occasion and could hold a grudge for the longest of times. Her means of revenge was somewhat perverse and dangerous, frightening people away from her in large crowds. But Lizzie knew she could talk Melanie out of doing any type of dangerous misdeed by simply involving food.

"But…" Lizzie paused, cupping her chin in mock-thought. Seeing Melanie turn her green eyes to gaze at Lizzie curiously, Lizzie suppressed a winning smirk and dragged the thoughtful silence on for a few moments before widening her eyes with realization – mock, mind you. "Will you really tamper with such good food?"

Melanie's eyes widened. She suddenly understood the consequence her scheme would entail: Melanie would poison perfectly good food!

"Fine…" The young girl whispered, her shoulders sagging helplessly and her eyes screwed shut, as if she was in pain.

Lizzie mentally concluded that there was more to Melanie's devious mood than she had first perceived. She discarded the cushion she once held and crawled sneakily towards Melanie's depressed figure. Lizzie gently slid her arm across Melanie's back and over her shoulder, pulling her into a motherly hug. She rubbed her red hair soothingly and whispered "It'll be alright in the end" into Melanie's ear.

Melanie felt herself relax at these words and nestled her face in the crook of Lizzie's neck, breathing in the comfort and love of her best friend's presence.

Melanie loved this; loved her best friend: a strange type of possessive love that she had never felt for any other, even her own mother. The power of this love coursed through her body many times but now, as she shifted comfortably against the body of a loved one, it was stronger than she had ever felt before. A small voice at the back of her ever wandering mind broke off Lizzie's gentle susurrations for a mere moment:

_Anyone dare to lay a hand on her must be prepared to have it ripped off._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lizzie screamed and spat the toothpaste into the wash basin, disgusted. She turned the tap to full blast and rinsed her oral cavity repeatedly: Hagrid's aftershave.

Hermione entered the bathroom cautiously and discarded the useless toothpaste prior to rubbing her eyes tiredly and exiting the stunningly white lavatory. She returned though, moments later, with another tube in her hand. She silently handed it to Lizzie and yawned, exiting the bathroom once again but this time, without the intention of returning in Lizzie's presence.

Lizzie examined the tube for a moment: it was pressed in certain areas near the opening, revealing its use, and had big white letters spelling "Colgate" with a red background. Lizzie thanked herself for befriending such a smart girl: she had brought Muggle toothpaste with her!

Contented, Lizzie brushed heartily, her mood surprisingly high considering that, once she got dressed and packed her satchel with the necessary books, she would pass the Gryffindor display board situated in the common room which should hold a piece parchment containing a list of Gryffindor students and their new placement. Oh joy!

And all too soon, Lizzie was dressed and ready to go. But her sanity and her inner child refused to allow her faculties movement: she stood in front of her dorm door but remained stationary. The inner gears of her mind were whirring rapidly, much like last night during Dumbledore's speech of **utter insanity!**

What was the old man thinking?! How could he do this?! Why was he so calmly insane?!

What that it? Had he gone senile? Oh dear Merlin! He must be sitting in Trelawney's stuffy, dizzying, claustrophobic classroom, sucking on lemon drops and peering happily in a crystal ball, watching mercilessly as his students are mentally and, in some cases, physically tortured beyond belief! The old cretin!

Lizzie scowled harshly at this train of thought. Thinking terribly about her headmaster would get her no where and furthermore, it was completely unjustified. As she recalled the words Dumbledore spoke in such a grievous tone, Lizzie soon becalmed her maddening psyche and thought it through.

Of course, she concluded after moment's pause. Dumbledore wished peace and harmony between the pupils of Hogwarts as, Harry had once desperately informed her, the final battle between light and dark; good and bad; Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort was to come about in the near future. With allies standing as one, even against the toughest of enemies, there is little to no chance. And with the coming ordeals, such allies are needed for the sake of not only the wizarding community, but the entire world.

_The fate of millions of people rests not only on Harry,_ Lizzie mused, regaining control over her once rebellious faculties and noiselessly opening the door, she descended the spiral staircase. _But the millions of people themselves who can aid the 'Chosen One'._

Reaching the bottom step and halting there, Lizzie sighed and leaned against the stone wall with her head drooped low. Dumbledore had his point clearly spoken that night…

The black haired girl snapped her head straighter than before and sniffed confidently, putting her faith in the age old headmaster. He was an aged man who saw many things, both pleasant and unpleasant, in his long life-span; if anyone knew the situation, planned ahead of time with a vast knowledge of the consequences, and truly cared for the rest of the world as a whole: it was certainly Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

With this resolve, Lizzie traipsed across the common room and towards the display board surrounded by seemingly millions of eager and anxious pupils pushing and fighting. Only a handful of students remained pressed against random corners of the common room as their friends who so bravely volunteered – though some were probably pressured without remorse or bribed bewitchingly – to locate certain names on the list and, shifting their gaze to the right, finally find out which House that student currently belonged to.

Lizzie wondered whether she could **should** – for she certainly could – convince a group of over eager first years to locate her own name as well as Melanie's on one of the five long pieces of parchment magically attached to the, not so surprisingly, **red** board. In the end though, she decided against it: it would be most unfair to them and Lizzie prided herself on her sense of justice. So certainly tricking a small bunch of eleven year olds would be unjust on her part and completely out of character – not to mention Slytherin-y. The offer remained tantalizing nonetheless but Lizzie suppressed the desire to throw a munchkin in the crowd and attempted to make her way through the mass of red.

At some point – probably when she was knocked down for the fifth time – Lizzie decided enough was enough and put on her angry face. Immediately, the crowd parted and made way for her, thinking she was on the verge of a painfully high pitched rant. But Lizzie remained calm and graciously sauntered to the front of the crowd with a small smile of delight. She speculated her possible placement, only subconsciously registering the names dotted neatly in straight lines – just enough of her mind focused on the list so that once her name was located, she could smile prettily and ascertain her mere speculation.

_Hufflepuff is certainly out of the question,_ her musings had began like so. _I am far too upfront for such a shy House and I can easily befriend a Puffian so that is most unlikely. Slytherin… _Lizzie stopped herself from treaded any further from that point. Being placed in Slytherin was much too gruesome for her liking. _Ravenclaw… possibly…_ Lizzie paused her scanning to think more efficiently. _I am well-read in many aspects, though many of them don't involve school work – more of Hermione's forte. But… I do have a highly developed sense of justice and great logic – not to mention fairly heightened analytical skills and I am more often than not observant. And Ravenclaws tend to be a bit secretive and stick to each other a lot of the time… That is it!_ Lizzie concluded happily, a radiant smile forming on her lips. _Ravenclaw must be it!_

With renewed vigor, Lizzie scanned the parchment intently before something caught her eye.

Each parchment represented the list of one of the Houses: one for Gryffindor; one for Hufflepuff; one for Slytherin; and one for Ravenclaw, which Lizzie was currently perusing. But that left one extra piece of parchment which, Lizzie realized as she scooted right to examine it, was much smaller than the others. Lizzie's eyes quickly scanned the document title: House Prefects.

Of course it was much smaller than the rest: this parchment only contained eight pupils and their placements. But that wasn't what made Lizzie's eyes widen in shock, fear, and utter disbelief – not by a long shot.

There, under the bold letters **Slytherin Prefects** was…

_It can't be…_

"Hey, Liz? What's wrong?" Melanie asked, somehow materializing right beside her. The red haired girl looked at her friend with curious innocence, taking in her shaking figure, widened eyes, and fearful countenance. Melanie's eyebrows knitted into a frown; what was happening to her friend to make her like this? She attempted to prompt a reply from Lizzie once more by a high pitched whine: "Lizzie, what's up?"

"Bloody hell…" Lizzie whispered breathlessly, her pupils shaking as they continued to gaze at the parchment. "I'm a Slyffindor…!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**A/N: **I give my sincere thanks to all those who reviewed, subscribed, and added as a favorite: Thank you so much! I love you all and it feels amazing that my story has such positive feedback (No flames! Whee~!). I shall continue to write heartily and remember, reviews certainly **do** motivate me (hint, hint, nudge, nudge).

Just a little fact for those who don't know: "loathful" is a word. Though in MS Word it isn't classified as a word, I have an electronic dictionary on my computer which clearly states that "loathful" is an archaic word.

Also, as I lack the skill of proper Sue-watching, I would like to be informed if Lizzie – or any other character for that matter – is drifting to the dark side (i.e. Mary Sue Land). As many do, I despise Sue/Stu's and sueification of characters. So please notify me of any Sue-activity and if you have any suggestions as to how to fix that, then do not hesitate to bring it up.

Thank you all and please continue to stay loving fans!

XoXoMaya-chanXoXo

And secretly plotting all your demise,  
XoXoMimi-chanXoXo


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Darn it all! Rowling's literary ninja's beat me out of her mansion and distracted me long enough for her to escape with Draco so, as of yet, I hold no ownership of the blond rascal! But I will!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Feel the Love?  
**Chapter 4: Shame

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Melanie slowly moved her gaze from a shocked Lizzie to the parchment her best friend stared at with such desperation. Her eyes scanned the listings of House prefects and as her gaze drifted downwards and onto the last category labeled **Slytherin Prefects**, Melanie realized why Lizzie was so upset.

**Slytherin Prefects**

_Mayfield, Elizabeth_

Melanie's eye grew equally wide as she took in this single piece of information with surprising care: her best friend was placed in… Slytherin?

Something was wrong. It didn't compute; it simply didn't. Sure Lizzie had an overemotional temper and tendency to be a bit disregarded by the school rules – two qualities of a perfect Slytherin – but Elizabeth Mayfield was also smart, well versed, and logical – **three** qualities very befitting of a Ravenclaw. And she was a Muggleborn too! A Muggleborn cannot, – simply cannot be placed within the confines of the Slytherin common room; cannot associate with Pureblooded Slytherins; and most definitely cannot attain the position of Slytherin Prefect!

Melanie had nothing against Muggleborns – her best and only friend was one! But from a Slytherin's point of view, this simple fact contains many problems within. And there was bound to be proud, selfish, conceited, fascist Slytherins still lurking in their common room, doing whatever they do, when Lizzie was forced to take it upon herself to associate with them. She'd go through Hell and back! Merlin's beard, she'd be smothered in her sleep!

This possibility made Melanie almost faint: losing her only friend…

The feeling of faint soon vanished and an intense hate and anger enveloped her dangerously. Much like last night when Lizzie comforted Melanie before sending her off to bed, Melanie felt a possessive sensation flood her body with an almighty wave of strength: anyone foolish and idiotic enough to lay a single hand on her Lizzie had better be ready to have it painfully ripped off!

Lizzie moaned in agitation, clutching the side of her forehead with a stiff hand. She moved said hand across her face and over her watery eyes with another agitated moan – but this time, it contained a slightly angry edge to it.

Melanie looked at Lizzie for a few seconds without blinking before turning to scan the parchment once more. That's when she saw it too: right below Elizabeth's name, scribbled in a sickening tidy manner, protruding from the thin parchment as though about to pop out and attack the two girls at any given moment was…

_Malfoy, Draco_

_H-him too…?!_ Melanie exclaimed mentally. Just the mention of that name was like feeding dry and brittle firewood to a roaring flame: Melanie felt an even greater anger immerse her being; mind and body trembling violently on the spot.

Being a prefect, that bloody Pureblood prat was to spend his nights in the same dorm as _**her**_ Elizabeth! And he had to patrol the corridors at night with _**her**_ Elizabeth! Oh bloody Hell; he was going to spend so much time with _**her**_ Elizabeth that she might not have enough time to spend with her best friend!

"No!" Melanie suddenly screamed, startling not only Lizzie, but everyone fighting to get a glimpse of the notice board. They all stared at her awkwardly, ceasing their pointless skirmish to peer at her curiously or to back away carefully.

Lizzie glared at a bunch side stepping their way out of the crowd while casting cautious glances over their shoulders as if Melanie was some kind of bomb that could go off any second.

"No!" Melanie screamed again, for the second time, startling Lizzie, who had taken a step forward to lecture the stupid bunch of gossipers.

Lizzie watched Melanie with extreme care; when something was disturbing Melanie this greatly, it was advisable to be very careful. But unlike the bunch that weaseled away, afraid they might catch some fatal disease, Lizzie's caution was accompanied with a good intention and kind heart as she tenderly placed a hand on Melanie's trembling figure.

"What's wrong, Mel?" Lizzie whispered, wrapping an arm around Melanie's middle and leading her to a secluded corner of the common room. She let go of Melanie's middle and instead, clasped both hands firmly on Melanie's shoulders, gazing at her attentively from an arms length. "Please tell me what's bothering you, Melanie."

"You lied to me." Melanie said, returning Lizzie's attentive gaze with a blank stare; her green eyes dull and emotionless. "You said everything would be alright but it's not."

"I know…" Lizzie dropped his eyes an inch, feeling ashamed of herself. "But… I know I said everything would be alright… but I didn't predict this Melanie."

Melanie's stare remained unwavering. "Then why did you say everything would be alright? When you weren't sure yourself, you shouldn't have said anything."

"You were troubled, Melanie!" Lizzie cried, deeply disliking the accusing tone in her best friend's voice. "I wanted to help you so I -"

"So you lied!" Melanie's voice steadily rose with every syllable but her stare remained still and emotionless. "Even though you knew I'd wake up disappointed when you were placed somewhere without me!"

"Melanie, please -"

"You lied to me! You knew this could happen but you didn't tell me!"

"I didn't mean to -"

"And yet you did! You lied! You lulled me into a false sense of security on purpose!"

"I'm sorry!" Lizzie exclaimed, allowing her hands to slip off Melanie's shoulders and fall to her side and hanging her head in ignominy of her actions. "I'm… I'm really sorry…" Lizzie whispered.

A sudden shift of movement caused Lizzie to look up. But as she did, Lizzie was swallowed in a bone-crushing bear hug by a teary eyed Melanie profusely crying "No, I'm sorry!".

Lizzie stood still, taken aback but all the same pleased by the sudden change of personality. After a moment, Melanie pulled away with a teary eyed smile, muttering another apology before casting her gaze to the floor and twisting her foot against the floor like a shy little girl.

Lizzie giggled. "There's no need to be sorry, Melanie." Lizzie whispered, linking arms with Melanie and traipsing out the portrait hole.

"I shouldn't have exploded like that." Melanie muttered, looking at the bottom step of the stairs the two girls were currently descending. "That was unfair…" She trailed off, turning a corner with Lizzie on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"I won't lie to you, Melanie." Lizzie began slowly, choosing her words carefully. "It was rather unsuspected. I said those things to you last night not only because you were so frightened, but also because I felt that way." Lizzie sighed, wheeling passed a bunch of crying Hufflepuff first years, bidding farewell to each other. In the back of her mind, Lizzie wondered what they would do if one left for war but immediately stopped, wondering whether or not they had enough courage to go to war.

"Why are Hufflepuff first years so shy?" Melanie asked, glancing as one of them began wailing as the other slowly walked away. "I mean, they have no backbone when they first start but after a couple years, they become pretty tough. I always wondered why."

"That's a generalization, Melanie." Lizzie commented. "Not all Hufflepuffs are shy in the beginning."

"Hmm?"

"As I remember, Zacharias Smith was noticeably upfront and blunt even in his first year at Hogwarts. I also heard that Cedric Diggory was the same." Lizzie recalled meeting both boys during her fourth year. They were indeed very straight forward, which Lizzie admired in them; though Cedric was more sensible than Zacharias as the younger boy was much more stubborn and condescending than the older.

"Hmm?"

Melanie's eyes were glazed over with a dull sheen and a hazy smile appeared on her lips, signaling Lizzie that she wasn't paying attention – rather, she was zoned out into her own little world.

Lizzie just continued walking, pulling Melanie, once again, out of somewhat exaggerated peril: Lizzie wrenched Melanie off of students she bumped into; steadied her before she had a chance to trip down the wide, spacious staircases and topple over the small, narrow ones; yanked her before she had a chance to knock into suits of armor, walls, doors, or anything else that stuck up three feet above the ground; and by the time the two girls reached the grandly decorated open doors of the Great Hall for breakfast, Lizzie was huffing and puffing away, feeling rather winded from all the bumping and tripping she had forced on herself – as many times before, while Lizzie attempted to steer Melanie in the right direction, she often found herself paying the price by smashing headlong into an iron door or pressed rather painfully against the thick cement banisters of the stairs she had saved Melanie from a messy doom.

The considerably tired girl, after taking a few deep breaths and regaining an erect posture, looked ahead of herself to find Melanie humming along to her favorite Muggle song and providing herself a skipping entrance to the Great Hall; but what intrigued Lizzie to follow her was the abrupt halt in her blissfully happy trot.

Lizzie fell in toe with Melanie and stared incredulously at the commotion erupted in the Great Hall: students were furiously arguing about, Lizzie deduced from the broken fragments of complaints and whines issuing from many mouths, their new placements; a few chairs were thrown here and there; slabs of food occasionally hitting an outraged or frightened student; the sounds of forks and other cutlery scraping against the floor as they were stepped on by oblivious students; and what's more, was the division and disunion of even Houses who had already developed friendship and unity with each other.  
Slytherins in general were brandishing their wands threateningly at any who dared to approach their tables; Hufflepuffs were huddled together, rejecting the many students claiming to be placed in said House, whether they be Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor; Ravenclaws were attacking verbally any who approached them, using big words and complicated metaphors, and confusing and irritating particularly Slytherins who didn't understand a word of it; Gryffindors, much to Lizzie's dismay, were gathered in lines, all of them ignoring the two other Houses and facing the Slytherins like an army readied for an attack; and to cap all the incredulity and terrifying astonishment, Dumbledore was perched peacefully on his throne-like seat, watching intently the chaos unfold right beneath his crooked nose with an amused smile; he watched with such undivided interest, one would think he confused this mess with an mirthful television program.

But the other teachers, Lizzie noted, were shifting uncomfortably in their seats at the High Table; some, namely McGonagall, were twitching repeatedly, as though wanting nothing more than to silence this nonsense; some, namely Snape, were watching the pandemonium through indifferent eyes; and some – well, in truth, only Hagrid was cheering certain groupings on people and Houses (mainly the Golden Trio and Gryffindor).

But nevertheless, under Dumbledore's specific instructions, the teachers did nothing to prevent the war ensuing between Houses; they just sat in their seat, occasionally taking a sip of liquid stimulant to ease their minds.

Never in her six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had Lizzie seen the four Houses so divided, so discontented with each other's presence, so unabashedly severing ties with one another and forming such disunities between fellow schoolmates outside their House. The shock of this rooted her to the spot so all she could do was stare helplessly at the chaos, mentally registering how true the need for unity among Houses was and silently praying for some type of intervention to cease this display of grudging idiocy.

And after a minute, though it seemed like two eternities, an intervention came in the form of a booming voice: "Enough!" It cried, startling the students of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had risen from his chair, strode to the podium directly in front of it, and spread his arms as though embracing the student-induced chaos; he spoke in a smooth, strong voice. "Students of Hogwarts! ENOUGH!"

His last word echoed ominously in the Great Hall, capturing the attention of every student within its four walls. Pupils craned their heads to gaze up at the Headmaster's podium, immediately forgetting that which they were fighting for and with; some students – first and second years mostly – crawled out from under the four tables, looking frightened and harassed. A couple emerged from behind the open doors of the Hall and Dumbledore stepped aside with a small smile to allow a single frightened first year Hufflepuff freedom as she had hidden inside his podium. Egg splattered and porridge covered, students slowly came out of hiding from various uncomfortable little nooks and crannies and turned to stare at the suddenly grim Headmaster.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled usually with happiness or excitement or even mischievous elation, but now they held a severe disappointment that made every student, Slytherins included, feel ashamed of their behavior. The Headmaster's eye swept across the sea of uncomfortable students, allowing them to realize the error of their ways through his brilliantly blue eyes; and once every student shifted uncomfortably or threw a guilty look at those around them, Dumbledore spoke harshly, "I am ashamed of you all!" Every syllable was spoken with acridity, causing many students winced and looked away, unable to hold his accusing gaze. "Fifth, sixth, seventh years! Do you not realize the influence you hold within your grasp; the influence of the minds and characters of younger students who see your crude behavior and, in turn, purposely imitate it? You mold their thoughts through your own actions, thus recreating the hatred between Houses that should have died many years ago – No!" Dumbledore boomed, raising his arms higher in the air. "A hatred that should have never existed!

"Can you not see? Lord Voldemort –" Many winced at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, including Lizzie. "– need not bother to destroy us! If we continue down this road we so blindly tread, we shall destroy ourselves!"

Melanie tugged on Lizzie's robes, pulling the shock still girl closer to the Gryffindor table.  
Lizzie, mind transfixed on Dumbledore, drank every word with an unquenchable thirst; with every word the age old Headmaster spoke, the clearer it became to every person, students and teachers alike, how serious the situation was. This wasn't a mere joke or an April Fools' Day prank; this was a process to fortify the odds in our favor; this was a means to strengthen our survival. As Dumbledore had declared for three consecutive years, the Dark Lord had risen again with an intention to enslave the Muggle race, to destroy any wizard or witch carrying the filth of a Muggle in their veins, and to ensure the domination of Pureblooded wizards and witches; the same intention he held before his seeming death, only strengthened by time and opportunity.

"Unity and friendship do not make a person weak!" Dumbledore continued in his alarmingly thunderous volume. "Hatred and enmity make a person weak! Lord Voldemort knows not of the power we can achieve through kindness and benevolence! In order to make it through these dark times in which this dark lord threatens the stability of man and wizard, we must unite as one; stand as one; fight as one!"

Clapping erupted from behind Dumbledore; a teary eyed Hagrid thumped his huge hands together, making a sound resembling noisy thunder, while muttering "Beautifully put, beautifully put!" under his breath. Dumbledore twisted his body elegantly and waved his frail hand gently, motioning Hagrid to control himself. The half-giant ceased his nearly deafening clapping and hastily blew his nose on a napkin the size of a table cloth – the sound, this time, sounded like a blow horn on full blast.

Once the echoes receded and uneasy silence had once again fallen, Dumbledore turned back to his students once more: all of them looked abashed and immature, much to Dumbledore's approval. "Mistakes can be rectified; grudges forgiven; enmity forgotten! All that is needed is effort from the masses of students before me! Students of Hogwarts: let not the animosities of your forefathers hinder your path to salvation; think not the errors of people before you remain engraved within your confines; allow not an outsiders view to form a path of opinions and beliefs you have not come to produce by yourself; and least of all, speak not of your fellow man and wizard, women and witches, in a way you yourself would not like to be spoken of. If this can be achieved, salvation and shelter is easy to find and we will survive the attacks of evil! Students of Hogwarts: allow oneself to be mixed; to be integrated with fellow beings and make a peace which many before had never thought to have. Be the first generation to break horrid tradition and unite. Become the epitome for future generations to come. Set examples for the young ones as to have them grow up with the right state of mind!  
Become inspirational! Become phenomenal! Become extraordinary!"

The entire Hall erupted with clapping – this time, coming from the students who were soon joined by the teachers.

Dumbledore stood; his eyes closed, his head tilted back, his arms continuously raised; his posture completely erect; the perfect image of resolute might – for lack of a better word.

Lizzie gazed in awe at the Headmaster as he continued his influential stance, her hands clapping feebly. As she had never seen the Houses this divided, Lizzie had never seen Dumbledore behave in such a way; his speech was moving and held a powerful prestige; his usage of words was absolute perfection: no utterance could have sounded so beautifully clear. His embracing stance, though intimidating, added a potent impact on the beings listening so closely to his every word, complimenting them greatly. The usually soft lines of his face were hard with the seriousness of this all and even from a distance, one could see clearly the grim frown they formed. It was troubling but at the same time awe-inspiring.

Dumbledore's arms slowly lowered and he regained his equanimity, opening his twinkling eyes to gaze at the sea of green suddenly change to red, then to blue, then to yellow. Oh how he wished these colors mixed and blended to form a unique rainbow!

Judging by the looks on their faces, Dumbledore concluded that his wish may come true.

Minerva McGonagall rose from her seat and stood beside Dumbledore with a long roll of parchment in her hands. "The Heads of Houses have put up parchments in each common room, informing the students their new placements. After the seventh years perform a Cleaning Spell to rid themselves and their Housemates of any -- particles of food –" She grimaced. "– you will sit among your new Housemates on your corresponding table and I will pass out new schedules. For those of you who don't know which House you now belong to, form an orderly line in front of me and I will inform you."

The Hall filled up with seventh year students muttering "_Scourgify_" on themselves before lending a helping wand on those younger than them. After most of the mess was cleaned, students sulkily and begrudgingly made their way as slowly as possible to their new Houses; some pupils formed a line in front of McGonagall, awaiting to be informed of their placement; Melanie, who had forgotten to locate her placement before entering the Great Hall, walked sinuously before Lizzie, watching her move silently for a few moments, grabbed her by the elbow and left her standing at the back of McGonagall's line.

Now there was nothing left for Lizzie to do except take her place, so she did just that. Making her way through the crowd with "Excuse me"'s and "Pardon"'s, Lizzie sat down gingerly on the bench of the Slytherin table, only to be welcomed by sneers and a haughty greeting.

"What the bloody Hell are you doing here, Mayfield?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes upwards, recognizing that deep, drawling voice immediately. "As a matter of fact, Malfoy, I've been placed here."

Malfoy's lip curled in disgusted. "Dumbledore's done it this time. Allowing filthy blood like yours into Slytherin…"

"And what's more!" Lizzie exclaimed suddenly with mock happiness. "I'm Slytherin Prefect!"

Malfoy, who had chosen this particular moment to sip his pumpkin juice, choked on a mouthful of liquid. He spluttered and coughed, doubling over on the seat across Lizzie's before choking out, "You? A prefect?"

"Apparently so." Lizzie muttered, placing her elbow on the wooden table and cupping her cheek, sending Malfoy a fleeting glance: he was still coughing, wiping out tears from the corner of his eyes. Lizzie rolled her eyes and looked around the room.

The mess of student scattered about was cleared; everyone was seated and looking apprehensively at Dumbledore. From what Lizzie could see, Melanie had been placed in Hufflepuff; Hermione, surprisingly, in Hufflepuff as well and Ron, with equal surprise, was placed in Ravenclaw; the Gossiping Duo were separated, Parvati Patil joined her sister in Ravenclaw while Lavender Brown remaining in Gryffindor; to Hermione's utter shock and disgust, both Crabbe and Goyle were placed in Hufflepuff (they leered at her threateningly); and a handsome, well-built, brown haired seventh year Lizzie immediately recognized with a blush was Nicholas Lexington waving serenely at her from the Ravenclaw table.

Suddenly very flustered, Lizzie hastily whipped her hand to the side in a vain attempt to wave back. Unfortunately this didn't go unnoticed as Lizzie saw Nicholas laugh and raise an eyebrow; this action only flustered Lizzie more, a blush rising to her cheeks. Nicholas, unfortunately, noticed this as well and he smiled charmingly at her before mouthing "Later".

When "later" meant and what was going to happen then didn't really register in her mind, Lizzie was too preoccupied with restraining the blood rushing to her cheeks: he had noticed her even with an entire table occupied with either nervous or deadly students obstructing his view. He had even leaned back to get a better view of her as Romilda Vane's head had blocked the sight of Lizzie for a few moments! This fact sent a wild rush of blood pumping to her face, and before Lizzie had a chance to hide it, someone else commented.

Apparently Nicholas Lexington wasn't the only one who noticed Lizzie's flustered behavior…

"You fancy that pretty boy, don't you?" Malfoy commented, pulling on a disgusted face. "Bleh! You have such low taste!"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy, before I shut it for you!" Lizzie retorted, glancing at the back of a spoon to examine her face: the blush had retreated. With an inaudible sigh, Lizzie looked dreamily at the vandalized surface of the Slytherin table (apparently, Dumbledore "luuurves" McGonagall). Nicholas' face popped in her mind; a small hazy smile, like the one Melanie wears when she zones out, appeared on Lizzie's lips.

"Are you ill?" Malfoy's drawling voice pierced the dreamy air around her. "Why are you staring at the table like you're going to vomit?"

Lizzie's smile instantly dropped: he was such a prat sometimes! "I'm perfectly fine, Malfoy; or was perfectly fine until you made your presence known again."

"Watch your mouth." Malfoy hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Lizzie, angered and sparked with a desire to push his buttons further, pouted her lips and cocked her head to one side. "Aw, does poor Draco not like being ignored?"

"Keep your mouth shut, you filthy Mudbl –"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry Potter hissed suddenly, appearing by Lizzie's side. She watched him as he slid himself into the seat next to her, still glaring at Malfoy, who glared back with equal venom. Harry suddenly broke eye contact with Malfoy and turned to Lizzie with a grin. "Nice to see a friendly face. I was beginning to get worried."

Lizzie returned his grin with one of her own. "Friendly? Since when were we friends, Potter?"

Harry laughed and ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I forgot, Mayfield. We're worst enemies!"

"Dear Merlin, you two make me sick!" Malfoy muttered, glaring between Lizzie and Harry, both of whom ignored him.

"Speaking of enemies," said Lizzie conversationally. "I wonder why Dumbledore put **you** in Slytherin."

"Who knows?" Harry replied, frowning. "But I don't want to be in Slytherin…"

"Slytherin doesn't need half-bloods and Muggle-borns!" Malfoy hiss contemptuously, his fingers playing with a feather quill. Again, both Lizzie and Harry chose to ignore him.

"Have you done any of the History of Magic homework yet?" Lizzie asked curiously. "Twelve inches of parchment on the Wizarding World's involvement in World War I!"

"Nah!" replied Harry, with a flick of the wrist. "Dropped it two years ago."

"World War I was a Muggle war so who cares about it!" Malfoy snapped, irritated. And once again, he was ignored.

"I feel sorry for Ron." Harry said, putting on a thoughtful expression. "For some reason, Hermione forced him to take N.E.W.T. level History of Magic."

Lizzie laughed in response. "There's something going between the two, don't you think?"

"Probably…" Harry muttered. "I just hope Ron and Hermione don't get together then break up. That would make our friendship awkward…"

"Weasel-bee and the Bucktoothed know-it-all are together!" Malfoy exclaimed, snapping his head upright and curling his lip in disgust.

"Do you still suck your thumb, Malfoy?" Lizzie asked, tilting her head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

Malfoy scowled, snapping his quill in half out of anger and opening his mouth to retort, but he was cut off.

"Students of Hogwarts!" Dumbledore called. "You have all settled within the Houses you shall now represent. All of your belongings have been moved to their proper places and timetables have been modified to suit." Dumbledore inclined his head to McGonagall, who was hastily wiping out course timetables to the students of Ravenclaw and slowing moving to Gryffindor. "Along with this integration, Saturday's will be devoted to the wholesome activities that will help form a budding relationship between fellow Hogwarts students."

If the students were not so ashamed of their previous actions, a noisy groan would have followed these words.

Dumbledore, pleased with the silence, positively beamed at them all. "Each activity will be unique to a year: first years will receive the easiest of the tasks and seventh years, the hardest." The tremors of another suppressed groan passed through the sea of students, particularly violent within the bowls of each seventh year. "Some tasks can require more than one Saturday to complete while others can take a simple hour if progress between students is effective. If any problem should arise, the Head of your new House will not hesitate to fix a solution."

"Except Snape." Harry muttered in Lizzie's ear; she could only nod in her agreement.

McGonagall finished with Gryffindor and continued on to the end of the Slytherin table.

"Parchment will be pinned on the notice boards of each common room, containing the activities and the list of groups the students will divide in, by Friday morning for your perusal. O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students will be given less of a homework load in order to keep up with these tasks. But!" Dumbledore exclaimed suddenly; the simultaneous sigh issuing from fifth and seventh years immediately hitched in their throats. "Do not let the leisure of these tasks hinder you from school work, which is equally important.  
"I have said all I need to say for now, so no longer will I separate you from your hearty breakfast. Students of Hogwarts! Enjoy your breakfast!"

The food that had initially arrived had been thrown about the entire Great Hall, coating students, tables, windows, and anything else within its radius; it had been cleaned away by the seventh years and the sneaky little house elves who had, during Dumbledore's mighty reprimand, cleaned the last bits of food covering the places the seventh years could not reach. Now, as the tables were spick-and-span, save the vandalized Slytherin table (in addition to Dumbledore's enamor of his deputy Headmistress, apparently Flitwick, Trelawney, and Binns have formed a dramatic, angst-filled love triangle), piles and piles of food, courtesy of those helpful little house elves, appeared before every student, thronging each table with various choices for breakfast; from cereal and orange juice to peculiar tasting porridge and banana chips.

From the corner of her eye, Lizzie saw Melanie dive in with a maddened look in her eyes: she had never been forced to endure such a long speech before breakfast. Giggling, Lizzie turned to the piled food and finically decided on three pancakes without syrup, a glass of apple juice, and a handful of banana chips; oh how she longed to just dig in without caring for carbohydrates and calories. _But,_ she chided herself,_ I have to watch my eating habits if I want to retain my pleasant look!_

One of the few things Lizzie had in common with most girls was the need to impress the apple of her eye with whatever she could manage. Now Lizzie isn't being modest when she says she isn't exactly the prettiest girl around; in fact, Lizzie happened to be quite plain looking with her straight black hair and her simple features; the only part of her that was prominent, eye catching, the only unique feature she had, in her opinion, was her frosty blue eyes. Many girls had blue eyes; some of them had a richer shade, some that matched the blue of the sky on a cloudless day; some even with a mixture of light and dark, making them very appealing; but Lizzie felt that her eyes were special, better than the rest. Her eyes were icy, like sky blue cloaked with a thin translucent layer of rime. Frosty, she thought of it whenever she looked in the mirror: frosty, refreshing, _sexy_.

So maybe _sexy_ is pushing it a bit; after all, what good is a pair of unique eyes on a face tantamount to any other plain Jane?

But, in any case, Lizzie was ecstatic about her features for once: on the train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Lizzie was sitting alone in her compartment (Melanie ran after the woman with the trolley to get more sweets), reading a Muggle book she bought one day at a bookstore entitled "Jane Eyre". She just flipped a page when the compartment door open and, when she looked up, saw Nicholas Lexington for the first time since sixth year standing there, one hand on the handle, indicating that he opened it, and a charming smile placed on his lips.

"Hey, Lizzie. I was just passing and wanted to say "hi", so hi!"

"Hee- I mean hi!"

Nicholas, laughing that heart melting laugh of his, jerked his head down the corridor of the train. "I'm going to go now but I'll see you later, okay?"

Lizzie had nodded, not trusting her voice in case it decided to betray her again.

Nicholas chuckled softly before closing the compartment door; he paused for a moment, glancing at Lizzie and after saying "You look especially nice this year", he smiled and left, leaving Lizzie wide eyed and stunned.

Lizzie, returning to the present, giggled crazily to herself, eating a forkful of pancakes. Her eyes twinkled with delight as she gulped down her apple juice and, with a quick goodbye to Harry and a venomous glare to Malfoy, Lizzie traipsed out the Great Hall. She reviewed her timetable quickly before setting off to the Charms classroom.

_Today might just be a pretty good day…_

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Well, at one point in time, I had given up fanfiction and moved onto pretty much reading anything good I could set my hands on. But as I continued to live my life, I felt an emptiness; a gaping hole in my chest. At first I thought it was because I needed a man to make me feel less lonely, but then I realized: I didn't need a man. No, I needed you! You and all your lovely readiness to read my stories! And as a happy celebration, I've taken my stories back up again! Yay!

On another note, this chapter doesn't contain much information on the plot, but it a nice little read and it does contain some background information and descriptions. Please be kind to be with this one; my skills may be a tad rusty after so long.  
The next chapter will go more in depth with the House Integration and hopefully, the first task!

**Disclaimer:** Ouch, ouch, ouch! Rowling poked me with a sharp pencil! Waaaaaah! Leave me to cry my withered heart out to my mind's content! Draco is still not mine!

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**Feel the Love?  
**Chapter 5: The Book

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"I am so sorry!" Lizzie called after Seamus Finnigan as he staggered out of the Charms classroom.

The young Irish lad's seating position was very unfortunate for him: Lizzie's mind was so preoccupied with what was to take place 'later', that her non-verbal Levitation Charm backfired and hapless Seamus was lifted three feet off the ground before dropping into a vat of Something-Or-Another Potion, a potion created by Ruderfold Jokerold, the greatest Potion Joker to ever exist, that simulates **anything** safe, but unpleasant to whoever drinks it, steps on it, or even touches it; poor Seamus got a face full.

"He will be alright, everyone!" Professor Flitwick squeaked above the talk of the students and the distinct cry of Lizzie's apologies. "Settled down, now! Settle down!"

"I hope whatever Seamus is experiencing right now isn't severely unpleasant." Lizzie whispered to herself, watching him stumble away.

"He's probably experiencing a date with you, so it **is **severely unpleasant." Malfoy sniggered beside her.

"A date with Lizzie would be anything but!" Nicholas retorted on Lizzie's behalf.

Lizzie blushed profusely; was Nicholas Lexington, _the_ Nicholas Lexington, defending her? Lizzie could definitely defend herself from Malfoy because, well, he was Malfoy, but she was certainly happy with standing aside and letting Nicholas handle this one. The way he wrinkled his nose and pressed his pink lips together almost made Lizzie drool and his natural pink undertone intensified with angered color hypnotized her dumb. His words were spoken in the most peculiar way imaginable: it held anger and umbrage, as if the insult indirectly harmed him, with spite in every word directed at Malfoy; at the same time, it held a caring, apologetic tone that made Lizzie's heart beat faster with each utterance passing his deliciously pink lips.  
Elizabeth Mayfield couldn't help but fall for Nicholas Lexington for the umpteenth time.

"Of course, Lexington! It would be boring, tedious, frightfully horrid, but it would definitely **not** be unpleasant. Dreadful, but not unpleasant." Malfoy threw his head back in laughter.

Whereas Nicholas was a gentle, caring _man_, Malfoy was a haughty, selfish _boy_.  
Malfoy had, indeed, grown over the past six years, but that growth was solely physical. His hair was too long to be slicked back; his chin protruded elegantly and his colorless skin was pale as snow, giving his countenance an aristocratic look, similar to his Father's. His hands, thin and cold, and his legs, long and sinewy; there was certainly physical growth, no doubt, but emotional maturation wasn't an occurrence. He remained, in his heart and mind, a young boy who had Father give him everything he ever wanted.

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "How could you possibly know what a date with Lizzie would be like? Any sensible man would love an evening of her time!"

_You're very sensible! And you're a man! _Lizzie giddily thought to herself, imagining her dream date with her dream man: a lovely picnic beside the black lake, with the sun setting slowly and painting the evening sky with a fiery mixture of red and orange expanding above them and a hue of yellow coating the outer layer with a thin concentration of pink lining the very edge. He would trace her lips with the tip of his index finger, then reach into a small basket of solid chocolate hearts and bring them to the tips of her lips. She would lick the delicious chocolates with the tip of her tongue before slowly enclosing her mouth around the small confectionary treat. The chocolate then melted in her mouth, and she closed her eyes, savoring the taste and the moment. The sun in front of them dipped into the horizon; she opened her twinkling eyes; he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip tantalizingly slowly and lowered his head. His thumb paused at the very edge of her lip, and ever so slowly, as the sun wholly set and darkness enveloped the sky, his lips would meet hers in a soft, slow yet passionate kiss under the dust of stars twinkling in the night sky.

"You're drooling on my Charms book, Mayfield…"

Lizzie broke away from her stupor and looked down: a small pool of saliva was gathered and forming a moist depression on page 10 of Malfoy's Charms textbook. She hastily wiped the side of her mouth and sat down beside him, thoroughly embarrassed yet giddily dreamy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What day is it today?"

"Wednesday."

"What day will it be tomorrow?

"Thursday."

"What day will the activity parchments be posted?"

"Friday."

"And what day will the activities take place?"

"Saturday."

"Sunday?"

"No."

Melanie was playing her favorite game with Lizzie: Irrelevant Questions.  
Somewhat like the game 20 Questions Lizzie would always play with her mother, Irrelevant Questions (whose name is derived from 20 Questions) is a verbal game where the asker, in this case Melanie, asks the answerer, in this case Lizzie, an unlimited number of questions which have little to no relevance to each other. Melanie would win if she asked a question but Lizzie didn't know the answer; Lizzie won if she answered Melanie's question but the redhead didn't understand it. Melanie loved this game!

"Why is the sky blue?"

"The sky isn't blue. Scientifically speaking, the light of the sun is pure white. Pure white light is made up of a certain array of different colors. These colors being: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. When the light of the sun passes through the atmosphere, gas molecules in the atmosphere absorb the blue light from the pure white light and scatter it all around the sky. The rest of the colors reach us as yellow light. That is why, when you look up into the sky during the daytime, the sky looks blue and the sun and sunlight look fiery. The sky is really black."

"You win! How many is that now?"

"27 in a row."

"Let's play again!" Melanie exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and down violently on the spot.

"Not right now…" Lizzie muttered, rubbing her temples.

"But we hardly get to see each other any more…" Melanie muttered; her playful smile had instantly vanished. She lowered her head and allowed her mess of red curls to cast a shadow over her eyes.

Lizzie placed a reassuring hand on Melanie's shoulder; the smaller girl instantly perked up with a wide smile.

"What's necrophilia?"

_Oh boy…!_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wonder of time is a ceaseless amazement. It contradicts to our wants, can break apart a loving relationship, end thrilled adventure, begin mindless torture, and, for one particular female, bring about a day one has been dreading for 48 hours and counting.

Elizabeth stared shyly at the iron gate of the Slytherin common room portrait. Well, it couldn't possibly be classified as a portrait. It was rectangular in shape and cold to the touch. Light reflected brightly off of certain raised panels and ones distorted reflection could be seen. There were steel bolts running horizontally, vertically, and diagonally along the front of the gate, merging at one copper snakehead knocker. The knocker greatly resembled a snake with its intricately carved scaly skin and mouth slightly ajar, revealing two great fangs that could probably pierce wizarding skin with the utmost ease.  
The contrast between the shining of the black iron and the rusting of the copper knocker was stark and somewhat intimidating. Lizzie concluded, as she touched the head of the protruding snake, that this most definitely wasn't a portrait: it was a gateway to Hell.

Suddenly, the snakehead hissed loudly and out flicked an equally rusted copper tongue, its thin blade tasting the air almost as though wanting to take a bite right out of Lizzie. Its black diamond eyes seemed to glare at Lizzie as she stumbled back with a yelp.

"Passsssword, pleassssse…" It hissed at her contemptuously. "Passsssword…"

"Uh… um… mmm…" Lizzie murmured, still shocked by the movement of that seemingly inanimate object. She regained her wits and mustered up enough strength to squeak out, "Aurora Sepling."

Aurora Sepling was Salazar Slytherin's first student and was revered nearly as much as Muggles revered Eve. Her portrait hung within the Slytherin common room and Lizzie's eyes were immediately drawn to it as she entered.

It was as though she stepped through some sort of invisible wall and passed into a world void of any type of warmth. The rush of cold air shocked her still and she became immovable for a moment. But that moment passed rather quickly and once again regaining her wits (Lizzie began to wonder how many times she would need to do that), she continued to venture further into the common room.  
The walls were made of stone and on the stone hung green velvet flags spread out with the Slytherin insignia and a giant silver 'S'. A few of them seemed a tad worn, yet others looked as though they were placed just this morning. Between every flag, there was a long piece of cloth hanging loosely, supported by the rod of each flag and colored silver and green alternatively. The ceiling was high and bleak, without decoration. There were several pieces of furniture, green of course, spread neatly about, occupied by a few frightened students (Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws by the looks of them) and a great long rug that would have been perfect for sleeping on if there wasn't a giant terrifying snake head decorated on it. There were three fireplaces that seemed to be emanating no heat, or rather, the cold of the common room and its inhabitants destroyed the warmth before it could diffuse into the atmosphere. These fireplaces were situated strategically: one was placed at one end of the common room while another was situated at the other end of the common room. The third fireplace, a grand one, was at the very center of the room, decorated beautifully in silver and a touch of green. Above the grand fireplace, a portrait of Aurora Sepling hung majestically.

Her face was thin and sallow, yet beautiful. There were harsh lines on her face and her eyes, impassive as they were, seemed to shine with pride. Her hair was tied in an elegant bun and a beautiful diamond tiara was placed daintily on the top of her head. There was but the slightest of smirks on her lips and a gorgeous wedding ring on the middle finger of her right hand.

The portrait struck nothing within Lizzie, as she had met with types like Aurora Sepling many times to know that she was nothing special and nothing worth being revered. Lizzie sighed and turned away from the portrait, making her way to the water fountain for a drink. Truth be told, Lizzie actually had no idea where the Prefect Common Rooms were and she was hoping that she would run into Malfoy, get into an argument with him, and eventually walk with him to the Prefect Dorms, all the while paying strict attention to her surroundings. She didn't want to have to repeat that cycle.

_Just bear it for now, Elizabeth! Just bear it!_ Lizzie practically screamed in her head, ignoring the glares and the grunts from the remaining 'true' Slytherins. They scrunched their faces up like gorillas preparing to pounce on an invading bunny rabbit. An innocent, harmless bunny rabbit who is scared beyond comprehension. _There isn't anything to be afraid of, Elizabeth! They couldn't possibly hurt you. And even if they tried, you could easily deflect any spell they try to cast and send another one right back at them!_

"You look constipated, Mayfield. Do you need to go to the loo?"

_Plan's in motion. Perfect._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Yeah, well! You're fat!"

"Fat? How the bloody hell am I fat?"

"You just are!"

"You're insults are lacking, Mayfield!"

"You suck, Malfoy!"

Lizzie stomped her foot furiously on the marble floor and, throwing one last filthy look at Malfoy, who in turn glared back, she turned her back to him, released her suppressed smile and traipsed into the Prefect Common Room. Her plan was a success.

Lizzie hurriedly skipped across the red carpet, her wild hair rubbed ever so slightly against the velvet flags of the four houses hung next to each other on the stone wall, and ran upstairs to her dorm by twos. Once she reached her destination, Lizzie grabbed her satchel and quickly skimmed through everything in it to make sure she had her History of Magic assignment in it. When she confirmed that she did, she raced downstairs and pelted to the library, where Melanie waited impatiently for her.

"What took you so long?" Melanie whined in her usual childish voice.

"I had to find the Prefect Common Room." Lizzie replied coolly. "Now, let us start our assignments!"

Lizzie entered the grand library and took a deep breath, relishing the smell of parchment, quills and ink, and most of all, the thousands of books on every wall and shelf. Even the old chandelier that hung low smelled amazing. The grand library: Lizzie's sanctuary.

While Melanie took a seat and waited for Lizzie to do the same, this time very patiently, Lizzie set her things down beside her chair and went to retrieve the necessary books. She held a small piece of parchment in her hands with the titles and authors of certain books scribbled neatly. And as she retrieved each book one by one, the weight on her hands increasing greatly with each edition, Lizzie noticed an old worn book with many dog-eared pages and tiny rips. Intrigued, Lizzie hurried back to Melanie, placed the books on the table, and with a murmured 'I'll be back in a moment', rushed back to wear the book was. Lizzie tentatively touched the cover of the book: it was rough and dusty. After witnessing no horrid mutation, Lizzie picked up the book and examined it. It was old alright: the color of the cover was pale. The edges were dipped in gold and engraved deeply with a small silver flower. Lizzie's fingers gently grasped the cover of the book and opened it with extreme caution, as though it would all fall apart if she opened it too quickly. The pages on the inside were of dull beige and written on the top right corner was a name and a date.

Catherine Amadeus  
June 2nd, 1938

_1938?_ Lizzie pondered thoughtfully. She cupped her chin with her free hand and closed her eyes. _Isn't that just one year before World War II? _To confirm this, Lizzie rushed back to her table and opened one of the history books entitled, 'World War II: The Necessary Muggle-Wizard Alliance' by Matilda Bagshaw, and frantically flips through pages.

"… after the World War I and the Great Depression, a time of great financial decline for both wizards and Muggles (see the Muggle-Wizard series), another world war took place and lasted from **1939 - 1945**: World War II…"

_So it __**is**__ one year before the Second World War…_ Lizzie mused, cupping her chin once again.

Melanie looked at Lizzie worriedly. She was worried for two good reasons. One: The look of Lizzie's face expressed deep confusion and thought laced with a slight pang of pain and this worried Melanie gravely. Two: It had already been a few days and Melanie **still** hadn't started the assignment! She needed Lizzie's help!

"Lizzie-bear?" Melanie whispered, widening her eyes at the girl and pressed her lips together like a child. "Are you s'ok?"

Lizzie was drawn back into reality with a light tug on her white dress shirt. "Oh! Um… I'm fine! I just needed to confirm a certain date. That's all."

Melanie's mouth made a small 'O' and she nodded, but deep inside, Melanie believed that Lizzie wasn't telling the entire truth and this made Melanie very sad because it could only mean one thing: Lizzie was changing.

Before all of this nonsense of switching houses took place, nothing in the entire world could have prevented Lizzie from telling Melanie everything and vise-versa. Throughout their entire friendship, Melanie never had to infer as to what Lizzie was feeling or thinking, or even why, because there was never one instance in Lizzie's entire life that Melanie was not aware about. Melanie knew everything there was to know about Lizzie and Lizzie knew everything there was to know about Melanie. This was how close they were to one another and how faithful and loyal they were with each other's secrets and personal lives. But now, for the first time ever, Lizzie was holding something back, a piece of information that she was dwelling on, and she wasn't telling Melanie about it even in the slightest of inclinations. This hurt Melanie deeply, but she suddenly recovered with the thought: _She'll tell me later, for sure!_

Lifted, Melanie grabbed Lizzie's wrist and pulled her onto a seat. She cried: "Help me!"

Lizzie smiled at Melanie and opened 'World War II Heroes" to page 11 and referred Melanie to different sections and paragraphs of the book as she took notes, all the while thinking of that old book in her very hands.

This didn't go unnoticed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
